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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25016449">meet me in the hallway</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hunter X Hunter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Depression, M/M, Pining, Religious Conflict, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 06:26:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,977</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25016449</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurapika can't stare at a closed door for much longer.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kurapika/Leorio Paladiknight</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>58</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>meet me in the hallway</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Meet me in the hallway</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Meet me in the hallway</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I just left your bedroom</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Give me some morphine</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Is there any more to do?</em>
</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Kurapika's back was sliding down the wall; every sense, every nerve ignited with a feeling he couldn't shake nor could he name. The fabric of his clothes irritated him and all he could think about was how he wanted nothing more than to just lay there, naked, in the middle of the floor, letting his body merge with the cheap scraggly carpet of the hotel entresol.</p>
<p>Though he hadn't remembered crying, his body ached and shuddered as if it had just finished releasing massive amounts of energy taking the shape of those familiar liquid droplets. Subconsciously, he reached for his cheek, hoping to find the explanation hidden as slightly damp lines running down the length of his face. There was nothing.</p>
<p>He coughed, a burning sensation reaching his throat, desperately trying to crawl out and make its way into the human world. It came from the pit of his stomach and it was obvious it didn't want to live there any longer. Kurapika silently agreed. His body was only a catalyst for destruction, after all.</p>
<p>God, how he craved an alcoholic beverage right about now. <em>God, </em>he wondered, his eyes fluttering closed in a silent prayer, <em>God left me a long time ago.</em></p>
<p>The door was the only company he had in this miserably elongated hallway, and its presence was not reassuring. It stood there like a bodyguard, blocking Kurapika from his destination and keeping the protected persons from Kurapika's malevolence. It never said anything to him. It only observed, neither amused or empathetic to Kurapika's suffering.</p>
<p>Now, the floor started to look soft. Now, it looked tantalizingly soft, as if Kurapika could lie down and fall asleep within a second of hitting the ground. Now, all he wanted was to watch the door from the floor's perspective, to get closer to where countless shoes had scuffled, ran, jumped, skipped, leaped, tripped, walked, dragged. Now, he wanted to see if he could catch a glimpse of the person he wanted to be close to out of anyone. Out of himself. Out of his family.</p>
<p>Out of God.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Just let me know I'll be at the door, at the door</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Hoping you'll come around</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Just let me know I'll be on the floor, on the floor</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Maybe we'll work it out</em>
</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Grey, unblinking eyes trained on the bottom of the door where the dying light of the bedroom inside could barely be seen against the pale, nauseating coloring of the carpeting. </p>
<p>Perhaps this is where it ended. Not only had Kurapika run into near death experiences before, he had been facing death for his whole life. Days where he felt his heart would stop if he just said the word, if he dropped everyone in his life so nobody would be suspicious if he disappeared, if he decided to open the car door that one foggy afternoon, if he, if he. So many "ifs" and not enough "whens." </p>
<p>Something had turned him around before he could turn it into a "when."</p>
<p>It wasn't him. He knew that. It certainly hadn't been an angel, either. Or, maybe, it had been.</p>
<p>An angel that had fallen, perhaps. Or a gracious angel that saw his agony and pitied him and so came down from the heavens to save him from himself. </p>
<p>Whatever it had been, it was now hiding behind this door. This door that now seemed insurmountably vast, as wide as the universe itself. There were nebulas between him and whatever it was behind that door. </p>
<p>His eyes closed by themselves. He didn't care anymore whether or not a person decided to walk in on this exact moment and see Kurapika lying in the middle of the hallway, body crumpled beneath the pressing weight of seclusion and loathing on his shoulders. He didn't care whether the door swung open of its own accord and decided to put Kurapika out of his misery by slamming him against the wall. Nothing seemed to be worth the effort of doing it himself, though. He wished somebody else would do it for him.</p>
<p>Some days he had wondered if anybody was truly capable of understanding him the way he saw himself. Potential hidden deep beneath the surface, willing to do anything you asked if you just asked one more time, one more time, one last time. <em>Ask me again and I'll tell you, </em>he would beg, silently. The eyes would turn away and lose interest. He wasn't worth a second try. Slowly, he would watch the person become occupied with something else, Kurapika's emotions now the furthest from their mind.</p>
<p>He would let them go. He never expected anything more.</p>
<p>Until something stayed.</p>
<p>Suddenly, there was a heartbeat that reached out into the darkness of Kurapika's mind, wrapping around his thoughts and his feelings and cradled them, repeating again and again:</p>
<p>
  <em>I will live here. I will live here. I will live here.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>We can work it out.</em>
</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>I gotta get better, gotta get better</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I gotta get better, gotta get better</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I gotta get better, gotta get better</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>And maybe we'll work it out</em>
</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Arms gaining strength back the way the moon brought back the tides, Kurapika saw himself from an outsider's perspective, limbs struggling to push off the floor that held him so deeply to this pointless excuse of a planet. He saw the tremor of his hands, the way he splayed out his palms in order to get a better grip, the way the veins bulged, all the while reminding him of his own frailty, his own mortality. How easy it would be to let his body go limp and let his mind go numb and let his heart stop feeling.</p>
<p>He couldn't do that.</p>
<p>
  <em>No.</em>
</p>
<p>He still had more to do here. Something inside him kept reminding him of that fact, like an alarm that wouldn't let you press snooze for the hundredth time. </p>
<p>It reminded him of the flowers. The petals he hadn't yet stopped to smell, the fragrance wafting to his nose and around his fingers and into the air, bringing the scent of birth and new beginnings with it.</p>
<p>It reminded him of dogs. The quiet dogs, with their noses that never stopped smelling, curiosity insatiable. The loud dogs, with the ear-splitting barks that made your chest rush for a split second before realizing the snake on the sidewalk just an inch away from your revealed ankle.</p>
<p>It reminded him of the trees. Leaves forever changing, never staying in one cycle for too long before shedding themselves and allowing their life to be sacrificed for another person's ecstasy.</p>
<p>It reminded him of love.</p>
<p>How could he forget?</p>
<p>What he would be missing if he left?</p>
<p>His eyes, swimming with emotions unnamed for they had just been discovered by Kurapika and he had never known anything like it before. The depth his eyes held when he laughed at something Kurapika said, the surge of affection and amusement revealing itself in little gold dots floating in his penetrating brown eyes. Something there that, just maybe, hid the answers to the questions Kurapika was asking himself.</p>
<p>That mouth that was perfectly framed by expressive pink lips, words tumbling over themselves like a clumsy child learning to walk for the first time, yet filled always to the brim with passion. The lilting sound to his voice that Kurapika found falling asleep to, the words becoming incoherent, but the intent still landing a blow to Kurapika's stomach. Like he never knew what to say, but always how to say it.</p>
<p>The hands that he had held only an hour before that gently sloped upwards to toned forearms which made a sharp turn into built upper arms which merged with capable shoulders that Kurapika sometimes clung to in moments of weakness in his dreams. The shoulders that eventually greeted his neck, the same one that Kurapika had buried his forehead in more times than he could remember, not only in moments of vulnerability but also in desperation, frustration, any and all emotions Kurapika was capable of knowing. The reliability of his body made Kurapika shiver.</p>
<p>Kurapika's own body was sitting up. The blood that had been previously rushing to his straining arms was now rushing everywhere else and he couldn't slow it down. </p>
<p>Had his eyes always been this open? Had his palms always been clenched?</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>I walked the streets all day</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Running with the thieves</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>'Cause you left me in the hallway</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Give me some more</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Just take the pain away</em>
</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>He wanted to leave.</p>
<p>Every part of him screamed to move, to get out, to run away before it was too late, before he revealed the ugly parts of himself once again.</p>
<p>He remembered all the times previous to this one, where he had placed all his cards down on the table in front of them and begged him to read them. To read <em>him. </em>Tell him what he was doing wrong and how he could fix himself. Ask him if, despite his problems, if he could still love and accept him for who he was. He had wanted to hear the response then, but now.</p>
<p>Those times of vulnerability had to end here in front of this door.</p>
<p>His legs propelled themselves upwards as a reflex, every joint reminding him that he had just been on the floor and that he couldn't move fast, but his heart was strong enough for the rest of him. Arms swaying mindlessly, head lolling to the side, eyes unfocused, Kurapika slammed into the wall just to the right of the door. He blinked, once, twice, three times. That door on the far end of the hallway looked miles away and god he was so thirsty. All he needed was a glass of water and he knew he could make it.</p>
<p>Maybe Leorio-</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Just let me know I'll be at the door, at the door</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Hoping you'll come around</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Just let me know I'll be on the floor, on the floor</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Maybe we'll work it out</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Gotta get better, gotta get better</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Gotta get better, gotta get better</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Gotta get better, gotta get better</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>And maybe we'll work it out</em>
</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>As if he had summoned him from the split second that his name entered his head, the door swung open, letting light swathe him and warm his bones from the inside out. </p>
<p>Kurapika couldn't make out the details of Leorio's gently sculptured face, but he felt his soothing energy reach out and gently caress him. He suddenly felt like a child being patronized for coming home late and dirty beyond recognition.</p>
<p>Tears fell down to the carpet.</p>
<p>Leorio's arms, inviting and receiving, took Kurapika back. Just as soon as he felt those arms he had been craving for so long, Kurapika felt his limbs become heavy once again. But this time, it was different.</p>
<p>This time, he wasn't afraid of moving. He wasn't afraid of doing or saying the wrong thing around Leorio. This time, he let himself sob, he let himself pour out the emptiness and fury and sorrow and regret he had been repressing since he was a child, he let himself become undone. He knew he would have to talk later, but now, he was content.</p>
<p>Leorio was watching him, eyes still the same as they were when he first met him. Completely forgiving.</p>
<p>Perhaps a name uttered in a broken hotel hallway was a form of prayer.</p>
<p>God came back that night, when the fluorescents went out and all Kurapika could make out was his own breathing and Leorio's soft heartbeat gently thumping against his chest.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>We don't talk about it</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>It's something we don't do</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>'Cause once you go without it</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Nothing else will do</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I hope you enjoyed this little drabble of mine, I was just listening to one of my playlists and this song came on and I instantly knew what I had to do. I've always enjoyed the poetic side of writing so I wanted to portray my emotions when I listen to this song and what I think of when I hear Harry Styles' god-given vocals.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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